A Loving Family (42 page)

She managed a watery smile. ‘He's not really my chap, Freddie.'

‘Then he's an ass. If he can't see what a fine girl you are then he doesn't deserve you.'

‘Let me get you something to drink.' She did not want to break down and cry and she tried to put visions of wounded soldiers and the dead and dying on the battlefield to the back of her mind, but it was not easy. She made her way across the hall and found Bob standing by the punchbowl with a glass of ale in his hand. He gave her a searching look. ‘What's the matter, Stella? You look upset.'

She filled a cup with punch. ‘Freddie was telling me about the wounded soldiers his ship brought back to England. It's hard to imagine what horrors they must have been through.'

‘You're thinking about him, aren't you?'

She could not look him in the eyes and she stared into the fruit cup, watching the bubbles rise to the surface and burst. ‘Yes,' she said simply. ‘I can't help it, Bob.'

‘I understand. We don't always fall in love with the right person, and I'm talking about myself, not you.'

She shot him a sideways glance. ‘I'm sorry.'

‘It's not your fault. I can't help the way I feel, but I daresay I'll get over it in time.' He patted her on the shoulder. ‘I hope your fellow comes out of it unscathed.'

‘You're a good man, Bob. I wish things had been different.'

He gulped his drink. ‘I suppose as far as you were concerned we were always more like brother and sister, but I just didn't see it that way. Now we're related by marriage.'

‘And our parents are happy. That's the important thing.'

‘I'll drink to that.' He filled his glass from the keg of beer. ‘To the bride and groom. Here's to a long and happy life together.'

She raised the cup. ‘Amen to that.' She was about to drink when she remembered Freddie. ‘This isn't for me – it's for my brother. Come and talk to him, Bob. We're all one family now.'

‘Yes,' he said drily. ‘One big happy family.' He gave her a wry smile. ‘I mean it, Stella. From this day on I promise never to mention what might have been.'

Next day Stella said goodbye to her mother safe in the knowledge that she would be loved and cared for in her new home. Thaddeus had taken her aside and told her that should she ever need a roof over her head she would always find a welcome at Chalkhill Farm. She had thanked him warmly but she knew that she would never take him up on his offer. Freddie had declined an invitation to stay on, saying that as he only had a few days' leave it would be easier to travel back to Southampton from London than from Essex. Stella suspected that her brother felt a little out of place on the farm, even though Bob and Bertie had done their best to make him feel at home. They departed soon after breakfast and Bertie drove them to the station in the farm cart. Maud and Rosa had spent the night at Portgone Place and were travelling separately in the Langhornes' barouche.

Stella was relieved to be back in the shop kitchen by mid-afternoon, and pleased to find that Connie and Spike had everything under control. Perry, it seemed, had been there to help out when they were busy and had taken a turn serving in the shop. Stella tried not to smile as she imagined housewives coming in to buy cake and being faced with the spider-like person of the archangel, but trade had been brisk and perhaps there had been some heavenly body somewhere looking out for them.

That evening they all went to a chophouse for supper and Freddie regaled them with stories of storms at sea and the strange sights he had seen when his ship put in to foreign ports. He was careful not to talk too much about the conditions on board, but the spectre of the men's suffering was very much on Stella's mind. She tried to rationalise her fears but sleep evaded her that night.

‘You look tired,' Freddie remarked at breakfast next morning. ‘I slept well, I'm glad to say.'

Stella filled his cup with tea. ‘I'm going to Heron Park today, Freddie. I usually spend two or even three days a week there, supervising the kitchen staff and helping Rosa with the accounts until she can find a suitable replacement for the housekeeper. Would you like to come too?'

He swallowed a mouthful of toast and grinned. ‘I've heard so much about the place it would be good to see it for myself. I want to visit the famous caves and see where that villain had Ma imprisoned. I'd have liked to get my hands on him, the bastard.'

‘It's too late for that, thank goodness. Someone else took the law into his own hands and put an end to Gervase Rivenhall's wickedness. Anyway, we'll leave as soon as you're ready. Belinda, Spike and Connie are managing things at the shop, so we have a whole day to ourselves.'

‘I have to leave on Friday, Stella. I'm sorry I can't stay longer.' Freddie gave her a worried look. ‘I'm afraid you're working too hard. I wish I could do more than send the allotment home, but I'll make sure you get it now that Ma's taken care of.'

‘There's no need, Freddie. I'm making enough at the shop to live on. You should save your money for when you come out of the Navy.'

‘Maybe I'll sign on for another seven years.'

‘You'll change your mind when you meet the right girl,' she said, smiling.

‘She'll have a lot to live up to. The women in my family have set quite a standard.'

Stella took her bonnet from its peg and put it on, checking her reflection in the mirror above the mantelshelf. ‘I'm ready when you are. We'll catch the omnibus to Highgate and walk from the village.'

He rose from his seat, taking a last gulp of tea. ‘If I had my way you'd always travel in a carriage and pair.'

They arrived at Heron Park to find Rosa in a state of near collapse. She was pacing the morning room with a telegram clutched in her hand. She threw her arms around Stella and burst into tears. ‘Read this,' she said, thrusting the crumpled piece of paper at her. ‘It's Kit. He's in a military hospital in Bombay.'

‘Is he badly wounded?' Stella felt herself go weak at the knees as she read the brief message. She sent a pleading look to Freddie. ‘It doesn't say why he's in hospital. Do you think they'll send him home?'

‘It depends how badly he's been injured.' Freddie took the telegram from her. ‘They don't give much away.'

Rosa mopped her streaming eyes on her handkerchief. ‘How can we find out, Freddie? Would anyone be able to give us more information?'

‘Sir Percy has a position in the War Office,' Stella said, gathering her scattered thoughts with difficulty. ‘I remember hearing about it when I was kitchen maid. He often entertained officials at Portgone Place. He's the one you should speak to, Rosa.'

‘Tommy must go see him today,' Rosa said, hiccuping on a sob. ‘He was returning home anyway but now he has something really important to do.' She rose somewhat unsteadily to her feet. ‘He's with Harry somewhere on the estate. I must find him.'

‘I'll go,' Freddie said eagerly. ‘Where is he likely to be?'

‘I think they went to the caves.' Rosa took a deep breath. ‘You don't know where they are.'

‘I'll show you the way.' Stella rose to her feet. ‘I can't sit here and do nothing.' She squeezed Rosa's hand. ‘We'll find out what happened to Kit and we'll get him home. Even if I have to travel to India to bring him back we'll have him home by Christmas.'

Stella and Freddie stayed at Heron Park that night ostensibly to keep Rosa company, but Stella was desperate to know if Sir Percy had been able to elicit any information from the War Office. She had hardly slept and she had neglected her duties in the kitchen, but these seemed of little importance when Kit's life might be ebbing away in a foreign land. She had tried to concentrate on the housekeeping accounts all morning, but in the end she gave up and joined Rosa in the drawing room.

Rosa was seated by the fire with her embroidery hoop clutched in her hands, but every time she attempted to make a stitch she pricked her finger and yelped with pain. Stella paced the floor, stopping every now and then to peer out of the tall windows that overlooked the carriage sweep. ‘Tommy must come soon,' she said, wringing her hands. ‘I can't stand much more of this waiting for news.'

‘What else can we do?' Rosa set her needlework aside. ‘I can't concentrate on anything.'

‘I can see Turpin.' Stella was suddenly alert. ‘He's opening the gates.'

Rosa leapt to her feet and hurried to her side. ‘It's Tommy's phaeton. I'd know it anywhere.'

‘Pray God he's brought news. I couldn't stand it if we were fobbed off with official indifference.' Stella closed her eyes, conjuring up a vision of Kit as he had been when he left for the training camp in Canterbury.

‘Come along, Stella. There's only one way to find out.' Rosa tugged at her sleeve. ‘I'm going to meet him. I don't care how it looks.'

In the entrance hall they were beaten to the door by Noakes, who although he hobbled at a snail's pace had been alerted to Tommy's imminent arrival. Two housemaids were trying to make themselves inconspicuous as they polished the banisters, but Stella caught them glancing eagerly out of the window. She knew only too well that servants were supposed to be invisible to those above stairs. Her early training followed her like her own shadow.

Noakes opened the double doors and Stella caught sight of a groom rushing across the gravel from the direction of the stables. Tommy drew the horses to a standstill, flinging the reins to the groom as he leapt to the ground. He bounded up the steps taking two at a time. ‘Good morning, Noakes.'

‘Is there any news, sir? All the servants are most anxious to know.'

Rosa pushed past Noakes. ‘I can't bear the suspense. What did your father say, Tommy?'

‘Let a fellow get through the door, Rosa my love.' Tommy took off his hat and caped greatcoat and handed them to Noakes. ‘You may tell everyone that Mr Rivenhall is in a military hospital but we hope to get him repatriated at the first possible opportunity.'

Noakes nodded his head. ‘I'll pass the message on, sir.'

‘Thank you, Noakes,' Rosa said, recovering her composure. ‘Would you send some refreshment to the drawing room for Mr Langhorne?'

‘At once, Miss Rosa.' Noakes scuttled off with sur prising speed, as if bursting to spread the news that the master was alive and coming home.

Stella had remained silent with difficulty. ‘Tell us the truth, Tommy. What did they really say? Is Kit badly injured?'

He shook his head. ‘It's cholera. There's been an epidemic, but the War Office don't want it to get into the newspapers.'

‘Cholera,' Stella murmured. ‘That's dreadful.'

‘Poor Kit.' Rosa leaned heavily on Tommy's arm. ‘I wish there was something we could do.'

‘He's a strong man,' Tommy said stoutly. ‘He's young and he's a fighter. He won't let a thing like cholera get the better of him.'

Stella shook her head. ‘If only I could believe that. I remember hearing about the Broad Street epidemic that happened over forty years ago. Thousands died.'

Rosa uttered a shriek. ‘Don't say that. Kit might already have succumbed to the disease.'

‘We must hope and pray,' Tommy said solemnly. ‘I've asked Papa to do everything he can to find out more.'

Stella stared at him in disbelief. ‘Hope and pray? Is that the best you can do?'

‘Come upstairs to the drawing room,' Tommy said, eyeing the housemaids who were still going about their work. ‘Don't make a scene in front of the servants.'

‘You're forgetting one thing, Tommy. I am a servant. I've always been a servant and that's the way it will always be.'

Rosa stared at her in horror. ‘Don't say things like that.' She lowered her voice. ‘Please calm down, Stella. We're all terribly upset but there's no need for that sort of talk.'

‘I'm going to find Freddie,' Stella said stubbornly. ‘I think we should go back to Fleur-de-Lis Street. He'll be leaving for Southampton tomorrow.' She left the house without giving them a chance to argue.

A pale sun picked out the colours of autumn as the leaves turned from green to gold and russet. The avenue of copper beeches had darkened to wine red and the lush grass of the deer park was a rich emerald green. How lovely England was at this time of year, she thought sadly. What a contrast it must be to the sun-baked plains of India and the heat and dust as described in some of Kit's infrequent letters. She had kept them in a bundle tied with red ribbon and hidden at the bottom of the drawer in which she kept her linen. Sometimes when sleep evaded her she would take them out and read them again and again, picturing him in his bivouac writing by the light of an oil lamp. Stories that Ma had told her about her childhood following the drum came back to her as she read his accounts of life at camp, although she knew that he left out much of the hardship suffered by himself and the men under his command. He had quickly risen to the rank of captain, but he was no career soldier and it was clear that he longed for home.

She had no idea where she would find Freddie, but a couple of shots rang out from the woods where the caves were situated and she guessed that he had gone with Harry in search of game for the pot. She set off in that direction and met them in the deer park with their guns broken over their arms and several braces of pheasant dangling from their hands. ‘What's up?' Freddie demanded anxiously. ‘You've been crying.'

She had not realised that tears had been rolling down her cheeks and she dashed her hand across her eyes. ‘Tommy's returned with news of Kit. He's in hospital suffering from cholera.'

Harry made a sympathetic noise in his throat. He reached out and took the dead birds from Freddie. ‘I'll take these to the kitchen. Will I see you before you leave?'